Queen of Hearts, Jack of Spades
by Kenkaya
Summary: Bakumatsu AU. A young inn worker watches Kenshin's descent into the madness of the hitokiri. Will their self inflicted duties allow them to reach out for each other? KxK, SxT
1. Blood, Sake and Tears

A/N: This is a sort of experiment for me. I wrote this fic WAY before I knew how cliché the idea was and quickly abandoned it after reading too many good ones. But, now that I finally have an idea I like, my beta reader fell through! Therefore, I am offering you, my audience, the chance to thoroughly criticize my writing. Hopeful, this will help me to improve my future stories. Please give me your input, negative or positive, to help me become a more accomplished writer. That said, I hope you enjoy my first, pathetic attempt at fanfiction!

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin. I'm just tortur... uh, borrowing the characters for a little harmless fun.

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Chapter 1: Blood, Sake and Tears

By Kenkaya

The setting sun rose-tinted cotton clouds and veiled the city of Kyoto in shadow; prelude to the darkness of night. With night came blackness, oblivion and death. Silent killers stalked narrow alleys, bathing the streets in blood, all peace swept away by metallic streams of red.

But for now, the sun framed his flame-red hair, giving off a warm orange glow. His hair was long, pulled high into a samurai top-knot and hanging past delicate shoulders. Fiery bangs fell across his face, hiding soft violet eyes, the thin scar running vertically down his right cheek barely visible through them. Wind teased the silken strands as he leaned casually against a wooden bridge rail, staring absently into the iridescent river depths below.

The tranquil scene reflected across clear sapphire eyes: tears lacing the lower lids as she watched him from the street. When evening fell he would leave, off into the night to fulfill his duty. She sighed. He was little more than a boy, barely a man. His heart was pure but lost. Lost alongside his innocence, on the day he first wielded a blade with intent to kill.

Shadows lengthened ominously. He knew she was there, but made no attempt to acknowledge her presence. They stood in silence for several moments, eddies of road-dust swirling between them like a cruel metaphor.

"It's late," the young man finally said. His voice was gentle, almost feminine.

She smiled back, "I know."

He did not face her, merely straightened and walked away. The woman watched him melt into darkness like a shade. A single tear slid down the contours of her cheek before hastily being wiped away. Fearful for her own safety, she turned to head back inside with forced resolve. Another night had begun.

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The night was young. He was void, detached, as he observed the next victim; no hint of expression flashing across vacant boyish features. They walked in a typical cluster formation, using the lack of light to confuse his sight and obscure their numbers. An easy trick to see through. He focused immediately on the sound of their footfalls: one uneven (too clumsy to be much of a fighter,) three deliberate and precise. So, four men would die by his sword tonight. He stepped forward.

"Who's there?"

One of the guards whipped around, sword diligently unsheathed. He spotted a short, lean man with scarlet hair and feral eyes. A killer's eyes.

"Hitokiri," the man growled under his breath.

"I come to deliver Heaven's Justice," the hitokiri answered in monotone; his voice lowering to a husky, baritone drawl. He distinctly heard the target gasp. All Bafuku supporters knew and feared the implications of hearing that phase.

"Well?! What am I paying you idiots for?! Get him!"

Two bodyguards jumped forward without further introduction. The hitokiri's face remained blank as he crouched in battoujutsu stance. He was ready when the first man came. Releasing his weapon with God-like speed, the hitokiri blocked the incoming blade, shoving it aside and twisting his katana deftly to slice through the exposed jugular. He raised a bloodied sword immediately afterward to catch the second man's swing without breaking form. The first fell out of range, propelled forward by his own momentum, and lay still on the ground as life pumped out of him in crimson torrents.

The second wasted no time, throwing his full weight into an aggressive frontal attack. Metal grated against metal. The hitokiri slid back a pace before flicking his katana almost dismissively to dislodge it. The man jumped back on reflex. He noted (only for a brief second) the third guard who remained behind to cover his target, obviously waiting for a perfect moment to ambush. Attention was brought to the second man once again as he initiated the next attack, blade poised with deadly precision to slash the hitokiri's throat. Without emotion the hitokiri leap effortlessly into the air, sailing over a messily tied topknot, whirling around in ready position as sandaled feet softly touch-landed. The man skidded to a halt and whipped back to face behind him. With a cocky smirk, he pulled his blade back for another forceful assault- and was promptly stabbed through his unprotected stomach. The hitokiri twisted his katana to a pain-filled scream, swung upwards, and wrenched the blade out before his opponent could react.

As the second bodyguard thudded against soiled dirt, the third sprung into action. Imminent death flashing before his eyes, the target fled. Hitokiri senses flashed an alert and he dashed forward. The guard had barely raised his sword when the assassin was upon him. He spun around the man's weapon artfully, decapitating him from behind. Flicking blood habitually from his katana, the hitokiri re-sheathed the blade.

His quarry's footsteps were heavy; he pursued with relative ease. A strangled cry rang out as he grabbed the man's expensive, indigo haori from behind and thrust him aside. The target hit the wall with a muffled curse.

"Damn rebels!"

The hitokiri did not respond to his abrasive outburst. He was going to die, let the man have his last words.

"Damn Ishin Shishi," he repeated. "You won't accomplish anything. You're just a bunch of idealists!"

The hitokiri poised his drawn sword.

"Justice," he whispered to himself as his weapon arched. The target pulled out his own blade, grip slightly awkward. The hitokiri pushed the wayward blade aside easily. The man barely had time to scream before the katana crushed down on his bald skull. The hitokiri didn't wince as warm scarlet showered over him. Crunching bone echoed brutally through his ears.

"Good, good."

The hitokiri turned. Two men, dressed in shabby dark clothing, walked out into the open.

"Inspectors," the hitokiri stated. He acknowledged them curtly before fading into the night.

"He's good," one of the men said. "No one's touched him since Shigekura's guard slashed his cheek."

"Still, his sword has dulled," the other observed coldly. "He kills them without blinking: a true hitokiri, but he's not the same as he was when he started. Has it already been a year?"

"Yeah, most hitokiri either die or go mad by now. He really is something."

"What do you say we go for a drink, eh?"

"Sounds good to me."

The men placed scrolls baring written characters for 'Tenchuu' over every body: Heaven's Justice. They left chilling corpses behind them, chatting casually as they strolled down a now peaceful alley. Blood soaked the sodden earth.

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The water ran off clear. Blue eyes watched from a distance as the young man entered the inn grounds late, blood running through his crimson hair. The water had long since failed to yield a pink taint, but he still washed. He washed methodically, trying in vain to erase memories and a stench only he perceived.

"Kenshin," she called softly from the open porch door.

He turned to her. Long bangs plastered along the border of his pale face accented eyes a molted mixture of violet and wild amber. As he laid those eyes upon the young girl before him, lush raven hair hanging loose down her back, the amber faded. Deep blue pools crinkled in a weary smile.

"Would you like me to prepare a warm bath for you," she asked the soaked man standing outside beside the well. He returned her stare for a few silent seconds before finally responding with a brusque, commanding tone.

"No," he walked inside past her, dripping.

"Goodnight, Kenshin," a female voice sounded as he ascended the stairs.

"Goodnight, Kaoru-san," the man tossed gently over dampened shoulders before continuing to his allotted room.

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The sun shone brightly over a Japanese horizon, reveling in all its early morning glory. Outside, birdsong filtered through the air as human life began to stir. Kyoto awoke slowly from its nightmarish existence; smoking kitchen chimneys, familial shouts, and merchant greetings eagerly replacing bloodshed and battle cries. A new day had dawned.

Kaoru diced vegetables surrounded by newborn light. Metal knife clicking across the wooden cutting board in a steady rhythm, she performed the only kitchen duty their landlady trusted her with diligently. A brief smile graced small lips as the girl thought how easily she could poison the unsuspecting Ishin Shishi and decide this stupid war. Her cooking was notorious. Not that she'd ever openly admit it.

On the subject of Ishin Shishi, her mind soon wandered to a young red-haired soldier, quickly wiping the mischievous smile off her face. Tears threatened to well in her eyes. She held them back. She couldn't be sad for him now, the men needed their breakfast.

"Kaoru-chan," a fellow worker called insistently. She snapped out of her brooding daze and turned to face curious brown eyes. The woman was probably only a few years older than herself, her dark hair pulled up tightly in a traditional bun. Petite feet shuffled nervously before Kaoru realized (somewhat sheepishly) that she was waiting for a response.

"Yes, Michiko-san."

"I'll finish cutting. Can you carry the rice out?" Kaoru smiled brightly, all traces of tears gone. They'd do anything to get her out of the kitchen, away from food.

"Of course," she placed the knife down carefully with feigned ignorance.

"Um…"

"Michiko-san?"

"I… we were just wondering… are you alright? You've been really quiet lately."

"Why?!" the blue-eyed girl burst out, exasperated. "Can't I have a moment to myself without somebody thinking there's something wrong with me! I was just thinking! Or is there something wrong with that too?!"

"I'm sorry, Kaoru-chan," Michiko bowed hastily in apology. "It's just that… you use to be so talkative."

Kaoru sighed. The woman was right, perhaps living amidst war and constant fear had finally taken an irreparably toll on her soul. When it came to the everyday joys of life, her heart just didn't feel the same energy anymore. She picked up the stacked trays and left with a mumbled 'sorry.'

Sliding the shoji open with her socked foot, she entered a communal dining hall, lined wall to wall with sword-clad men. They grabbed greedily for their rice bowls. She served them quickly, hurrying to leave as one of the more lecherous fiends began to loudly relay his nightly escapades.

As Kaoru slipped through the doorway's promised sanctuary, she glanced back at Kenshin. He sat calmly surrounded by rowdy men, the invisible wall between them painfully obvious.

With a melancholy breath, she remembered the shy, young boy he was the first time she saw him. She recalled how his eyes always shone a brilliant shade of purple, how the other girls swooned over him. No small wonder, he was soft-spoken and courteous, often helping where he could around the inn. No scar marred his face.

Then he received the first black envelope. She saw him return late that night, stained with blood.

"Kenshin?" she had called out warily.

He turned to face her. His eyes were a hard, steely blue. She watched passively as cold blue eventually transformed to feral amber. The eyes of a killer.

He was the hitokiri; he accepted his fate and ate in silent solitude. Kaoru felt tears again. She couldn't be sad for him now.

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Kenshin walked aimlessly through the streets of Kyoto. He found walking through the bustle of the city a refreshing change of pace, especially with the late hours he usually kept now. He dodged easily as a pair of children dashed across his path, laughing. They were closely followed by an angry woman, flushed and winded from their chase. He allowed a faint smile to break through his mask. In his eyes, nothing was more cherished than a child's smile. He killed for that smile. He fought a war and hardened his heart to ensure a new era: an era where children like them could laugh freely.

Where they could live the childhood he never had.

The children's smile quickly found itself in second place when he saw her. Kaoru was in the market, laden with groceries. He was tempted to make himself known, offer to carry those groceries, but consented to watch her. He briefly wondered about his actions and reasoned with himself that her safety was part of his duty.

He slipped gracefully through the crowd, analyzing her every movement. He lowered his head slightly, fiery bangs hiding his line of sight. And the scar.

She was beautiful. Her raven hair pulled back in a high ponytail, oddly mirroring his own. She wore her favorite yellow kimono, embroidered with cherry blossoms along the sleeves. A pink ribbon, matching her obi, completed the ensemble.

The inn came into view while he was busy admiring her. Satisfied with her safe entrance, he turned to enter a nearby bar: the transition so smooth it appeared to have been his destination all along.

Inside, the building was full to brimming with drunks. Kenshin sat at a corner table, ordered, and drank quietly in the shadows. His lips curled as he took the first sip. Bitter. The sake held a faint metallic aftertaste strangely reminiscent of blood. His master's words haunted him.

"_In spring, cherry blossoms by night. In summer, the stars. In autumn, the full moon. In winter, the snow. These are always enough to make sake delicious. If it tastes bitter, that's proof there's something sick inside your soul." _

He grimaced inwardly. Did he even have a soul anymore? Everything tasted like blood now.

Shaking his head slightly to clear those wayward thoughts, he racked his brain for any musings that did not possess crimson-colored violence or his former master. Immediately, he found an anchor in the memory of Kaoru.

The day he met her.

He remembered walking, bored, into the inn kitchens. The girls had been nice enough, literally taking over every task the landlady had offered his idle hands and flirting mercilessly while doing so. He didn't really mind. Having spent all of his adolescent years secluded in the mountains, he had no desire (or experience) to play their gender games. The boy simply ignored their advances and responded mannerly. At some point, he noticed a girl standing off to the side, cutting vegetables while chatting amicably to an older girl who had given up on him earlier. She was quite comely.

"Himura-san?"

He turned toward one of the girls, realizing he hadn't been paying attention. Kenshin apologized hurriedly but she had already followed his former line of sight.

"Oh, that's Kaoru," she said loudly with a hint of jealousy. Said girl's head snapped up at the mention of her name. "She's new, but she's only allowed to cut vegetables because she can't cook to save her life."

"Reiko!" Kaoru protested, her cheeks tinged pink.

"It's true! Okami-san won't trust her with any other duty but cleaning in the kitchen."

"Reiko! Stop it! I do my share," the embarrassed girl fumed.

"That doesn't change the fact you can't cook. What type of man do you ever hope to snag, anyway? Nobody wants a wife who can't cook."

"Who said anything about men?!"

"Now, now," he stepped between the quarreling pair, feeling somewhat at fault for their fight.

"Fine… it's Kenshin, right?" Kaoru sighed in defeat. He nodded mutely, somewhat taken aback by the sudden familiar address.

"How could you be so disrespectful to Himura-_san_?" Reiko shouted, placing extra emphasize on the -san. "You're so unlady-like. No one will ever marry you. You probably call your own father by his name! Not that he doesn't deserve it for forgetting to teach you some…"

Kaoru snapped. "How DARE YOU!" she shrieked, shaking the knife over her head threateningly. "How dare you bring my father into this! My father is a great man! I'd never show him anything but my highest regard!"

She stabbed her knife into the cutting board after her tirade, splitting the wood, and stomped out of the kitchen. Not a single soul moved to stop her.

"Oh don't worry about her," Reiko sniffed, shattering the lingering quiet. "The little brat's just having one of her temper tantrums. She is _only_ fourteen after all."

"I'm fourteen," he said before he could stop himself.

"Oh, well… you're different. You're so mature," she giggled and continued to prattle on nervously.

Kenshin glanced in the direction she'd gone with a sympathetic gaze before turning back to his chore. He remained, offering brief polite responses when the girls addressed him, but his heart was no longer set on work. He feigned fatigue soon afterwards, brushing off Reiko's obvious invitation as he left. Not in the mood to return to the isolation of his room, the young swordsman decided to take a walk in the gardens.

He allowed his feet and mind to wander down the winding gravel paths. It was hard to believe, standing in the middle of cultivated sanctuary, that this was indeed a city ravaged by war. Kenshin remembered seeing the subtle signs when he first arrived: the quick glances and hurried steps of people on the street, several women walking past dazedly with shorn hair, ominously dark wet spots soaking into the dusty road, a slight stink beginning to emit as noonday sun baked the earth. A cold shiver had run down his spine back then, suddenly apprehensive at the thought he would soon be joining that nightly dance. Soon, he wouldn't have time to stroll through peaceful gardens.

Badly suppressed sniffles interrupted his depressing train. Curious, he followed the soft sound until he found Kaoru, crouched behind a large tree and crying miserably. The clueless boy (unsure how to handle the situation but unwilling to just leave) knelt down besides her, fidgeting. He hesitantly lifted a comforting hand when she spoke.

"Reiko's right, but I don't care! I don't need anybody! I'm fine."

"Kaoru-san," he paused. What should he say to her? He had very little experience when it came to dealing with emotions. His overbearing master certainly gave no examples!

"I'm fine," she lifted her chin and curved her lips in an attempt to smile. The gesture might have worked too, if her face wasn't already horribly blotchy from her tears.

"Kaoru-san, Reiko-san shouldn't have said those things to you. It wasn't very nice," he mentally slapped himself afterwards. It wasn't very nice?! God, he sounded like a child! Or an idiot. _She probably thinks I'm both right about now_, Kenshin thought bleakly. But, really… what else could he say when she was looking up at him with those hurt, red-rimmed eyes.

"I'm fine, Kenshin. It's nothing to me."

His gaze never left her as she jumped up and ran off like a frightened rabbit. Watching her retreating back he realized, somewhat surprisingly, that she wasn't afraid; she was hiding.

_Like me_, he mulled back at the bar, draining the last of his sake in a haze. _Still bitter._

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TBC…


	2. Nightmare

A/N: Well, same goes for the last chapter, this is an experimental fic to help me improve my writing. Feel free to praise or criticize, I'm pretty thick skinned. Now I had I few questions so here are your answers:  
  
Ryoko: Um. if I suck at one thing its titles. It's kind of a pun on playing cards. When playing cards were first used in Europe, the Spades was actually a Swords card. So, in VERY roundabout way, I'm referring to Kenshin as the Jack of Swords (I'm a huge bookworm and incredibly corny.) Kaoru became the Queen of Hearts because throughout the fic, she sort of melts his heart. I was really stumped for a title and, being the crazy I am, just picked a totally random pun. If you have a better idea for a title that actually makes sense, I'm perfectly willing to throw away this one.  
  
Child of Darkness: Thanks for support!  
  
Miyu Sakura: Thanks for the praise. I liked your review. Very through. Reviews like that really help me with my writing. I already planned to follow most of your advice, but Tomoe is already in the story, though she isn't really a complication in the relationship. She has a small cameo in the beginning and doesn't really interact with Kenshin or Kaoru until the very end. The character she has the most interaction with is Saitou.  
  
Ecchi: Thanks. My other story is better than this (in my humble opinion.)  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 2: Nightmare  
  
By Kenkaya  
  
Kaoru sat diminutively by the koi pond in the gardens. The stars shone brightly. There was no moon to see by. She raised her face to the heavens, staring intently into the infinite void.  
  
"Hello, father," she said with a sad smile. "How are you? Still mad at me? I know you have your reasons, but I have mine too. Can you try to understand? Well, I'm fifteen now. Its funny, I had to remind myself about today. It's nothing. But maybe now you can see I'm not a child anymore. I can make my own decisions. I know I shamed you but I have to do this! You can understand that, ne? He was like a son to you. I swear I'll hold to my word! I'll bring him back and make everything right again."  
  
She rose from her vigil. Sapphire eyes etched with sorrow, she walked back to the inn. Her thoughts wavered towards a young swordsman with flame hair and amethyst eyes. No, she could not let him distract her. She tried to concentrate on a handsome young man with faded black hair and profound green eyes, but his features began to mutate. After a hard struggle, she sighed and gave in to her desires.  
  
Did she love him?  
  
She stopped in the doorway and turned back to face the night.  
  
"I can't do it, father! I'm hopeless!"  
  
Then she disappeared into the shadowed interior.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Kenshin sat on the roof, confused.  
  
He watched her tiptoe out of the inn and knell by the koi pond. He listened, a genuine smile creeping across his mask.  
  
He was surprised by her revelations. She disobeyed her father? She was fifteen today? And this man she was looking for, who was he? What was he to her?  
  
He blinked. Why did he care? If this man was important to her, he should just let her go on with her search. If she found him and left, so be it.  
  
Why did his chest ache?  
  
Through the blackness of the night he could see her lovely raven hair, her ivory skin, finely sculptured face, and lastly, her shining sapphire eyes. The faint scent of jasmine hung in the air.  
  
Then she floated away. She walked slowly, steps dragging against the ground.  
  
"I can't do it father! I'm hopeless!"  
  
She's hopeless?  
  
He brooded in silence long after she disappeared. He had come here to think and hopefully will himself back to sleep. Since his first kill, nightmares plagued him, faces bombarding his psyche without mercy.  
  
He would not be getting anymore sleep tonight.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Kaoru strolled the city streets, as always, scanning faces in the crowd. He was the reason she came to Kyoto. She couldn't return to Edo without him, more or less face her father.  
  
Painful memories flooded her mind. Exhausted, she made her way to the river and flopped down on a patch of grass under the bridge. The water rippled, flashing liquid gold. Gold, like his eyes when he killed. She shivered. Why couldn't she get the handsome hitokiri out of her head? He couldn't replace Keisuke in her heart. Keisuke was a gentle boy who loved life almost as much as he loved her. Kenshin was a cold-blooded assassin.  
  
His eyes. She remembered brilliant purple, steely blue and finally wild amber. Eyes were windows to the soul. By the look in his eyes, his soul was poisoned, rotting away further with each slaughter. What was happening to the awkward boy who tried to dry her tears?  
  
More tears rose. She let them fall. Now she could cry for him. When her tears were spent, the sun dipped low on the horizon. She rose and headed back to the inn.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Kenshin spent the day roving through the city again. A parade of Shinsengumi caused him a slight detour; Mibu's wolves they were called. The Bafuku were becoming cautious.  
  
He reached the inn late, missing dinner. Sighing, he stepped into the kitchens.  
  
The girls flitted around nervously when he made his request. He ate in the kitchen, noting their unease. Reiko rushed to pick up the dishes when he finished, eyes downcast. She was afraid of him. How amusing.  
  
He left quietly, showing none of his inner turmoil. Amid the maelstrom, he felt relief. Nearly two weeks had passed since he received a black envelope; he needed the repose.  
  
"Hey, looking for a good time, gorgeous."  
  
He frowned, really to bypass the man's rendezvous.  
  
"Don't touch me. Ecchi!"  
  
Kaoru.  
  
"Hey, don't get bitchy on me now."  
  
"Let go of me!"  
  
He approached the voices. The man had grabbed her by the arm and was unsuccessfully trying to drag her into an adjacent room.  
  
Rage seethed inside him. How dare that man touch her like this! How dare he treat her like some common whore!  
  
"I. Said. Let. Go."  
  
She elbowed the man's gut and used the distraction to jerk her arm free. He hunched over, glowering. She turned away.  
  
"I'll get you for that, bitch!" the man reached for her ponytail.  
  
Kenshin had enough. He stepped forward, disgusted. He glared at the man with savage amber eyes; a hitokiri's eyes.  
  
She walked past him, averting her gaze.  
  
He turned to escort her out of the room, expecting nothing for his help. Unfortunately, he was wrong.  
  
"Kenshin! What were you doing?!" she exclaimed once they were out of earshot.  
  
"Helping," he replied curtly. Hitokiri were not known for their ways with words. That's what politicians were for.  
  
"Why?" she pressed.  
  
"You seemed to need it."  
  
"I can handle myself! If I couldn't I would've been raped by bastards like him ages ago," she cut off her tirade with flushed cheeks. "I didn't mean to be so blunt, but it's the truth."  
  
"This has happened before?"  
  
She snorted. "It happens to all the girls. Iizuka jumped me my first night here. But a lot of the guys stay away from me now."  
  
"Oh?" he couldn't stop his curiosity or the hard edge to his voice.  
  
"Aren't we talkative today," she grinned. "The men stay away from me because of what I did to Iizuka. It's still a sore bruise on his ego!"  
  
He cocked his head slightly in interest.  
  
"I kicked him where it hurts a man most, with geta on! He could barely stand afterwards."  
  
He visibly winced. That would do the trick.  
  
"Serves him right, trying to corner me like that. I'm not exactly helpless! And then the next morning, he was telling all the men what a good lay I was to fuel his own ego!" she sighed in exasperation. "I have to admit I enjoyed it when the truth came out. The men laughed at him for days! Then the baka goes after me again to save face."  
  
He never classified Iizuka as a first-class idiot before.  
  
"He went after you again?"  
  
"Hai," she bobbed her head. His eyes fixed momentarily on the swishing movement of her raven hair. "He snuck in the servant rooms at night to catch me in my sleep."  
  
A fresh wave of rage bubbled forth. He clamped down on the frenzied emotion.  
  
"He scared me nearly to death! He kept me from screaming but my struggle woke some of the girls up and they started screaming and trying to help pull me away. He never got a chance to do anything lasting," she chuckled. "Okami-san was so angry. She threatened to throw out all the Ishin Shishi and ban them from the inn. Even Katsura-sama! 'Forget the cause' she said, 'my inn is in danger already being an imperialist base, I don't need to tolerate oversexed men pawing at my workers and waking everybody up at odd hours of the night!' It was great! You came a few weeks later and by then the whole thing had pretty much blown over. Your anti-social tendencies didn't help much either."  
  
The slight smile that graced his lips transformed into a light scowl.  
  
Excuse me?"  
  
"You know perfectly well what I meant."  
  
He shrugged, "I am a hitokiri."  
  
"You're not just a hitokiri," She whispered, tugging on his sleeve gently. He stopped. Her sapphire orbs were shot. He didn't notice before. Had she been crying?  
  
"What am I?"  
  
"What are you hiding from?"  
  
"I should ask you the same," he snapped, taken aback by her insight.  
  
She looked up at him with a crooked smile. He was only a few centimeters taller than her. He was tense.  
  
"I guess we're all here because we're either running or hiding."  
  
"Or both," he added.  
  
"Or both," she agreed. She ran off and slipped down the hall to the servant quarters.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
What do you think of me now?  
  
Kenshin watched the wooden top spin in the darkness. The top was plain, no brilliant colors or intricate carvings. The whirling object captivated him.  
  
I kill. I have no heart, no soul. Memories are my only respite. And her.  
  
He broke his thoughts. The top fell over. He sighed. A calloused hand shot up to smack his forehead, lacing fingers through fiery bangs in a desperate grip. How could he ever expect to sleep like this?  
  
His childhood. It was short, too short. He grabbed on to the scattered images of family, groping for peace of mind. His father, his mother, his brothers; back then he had truly been innocent.  
  
He was Shinta, the mischievous little farmer's son. He was the small, profound boy who stepped between fights, who hated discord. His father teased him, calling him 'musume' and his brothers shouted 'imouto' in unison. He hated that too.  
  
His seventh birthday. The summer wind blew harsh. The land was dry. His older brother smiled, handing him a hand-carved wooden top.  
  
"Here, Shinta-kun, let me show you how to use that."  
  
The last birthday present he got. The last memento of his innocence. In a few months a cholera epidemic would steal his childhood and enslave him. The wood, smooth with age, was his heart, his soul.  
  
He sighed, picked up the top, and wrapped the string around it again. He let it fly.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Kaoru woke early. She was restless.  
  
Shoving the blankets aside, she lifted herself off the futon and dressed in a plain pale blue kimono. Unbraiding her hair, she decided to leave it loose down her back and walked out toward the gardens in darkness.  
  
Nature always soothed her. Even at home, she ran to find comfort by her late mother's flowers. She walked up to the koi pond. It was bigger than the one at home. She released a breath as she knelt, dipping a hand lazily into the cool water reflecting the black sky.  
  
She wondered who was taking care of her mother's flowers. Her mother had died when she was very young; the flowers were a way for her to connect to a woman she could no longer put a face to. Who, other than her, would bother with them?  
  
Keisuke might have, but his departure was the reason she left. Her father surely would, but he was probably lamenting over losing his surrogate son and only child.  
  
I'm sorry father.  
  
She walked inside, trekking through the halls. She reached Kenshin's room. A cool breeze flitted across the hall, his shoji was open a crack. She reached to close it.  
  
Where is the breeze coming from?  
  
Curious, she peeped in and saw him propped up against the open window. He was asleep. Smiling at his serene face, she stepped in. He looked like a child in his slumber, aside from the sheathed katana propped against his shoulder and the violent scar that marked his left cheek. She tiptoed across the room, intending to close the window and leave him undisturbed.  
  
He shifted and mumbled incoherently. She heard something solid fall onto the floor. A wooden top rolled across planked timber, spiraling to a stop at her feet. She picked it up tenderly.  
  
Why does he have a top? It must have some sentiment for him to keep it.  
  
He broke the silence with a sharp cry. She hurried to his side. His eyes snapped open.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Kenshin was running. The alleys of Kyoto were dark. He could smell blood everywhere. Could feel it splattering beneath his feet. Moans of agony drifted through the air. Screams of death bashed against his ears. His vision was tinted red.  
  
A man stepped from the shadows, wearing a purple yukata. He began walking toward the man, subconsciously. The man turned. Kenshin gasped.  
  
"Hitokiri," the man hissed. His yukata was not purple, but blood-stained blue.  
  
The first man he killed. He died months ago under temple arches, staining the holy ground scarlet.  
  
The man screamed, "hitokiri!"  
  
He unsheathed his sword and charged the hitokiri. Before he could assess the situation, Kenshin found his sword in the man's heart. But it was not the man anymore. His features were growing harsher, more angular. He was wearing a flowing white mantle.  
  
"S.Shishou!"  
  
The man on the end of his katana bent down and whispered, "What did you expect?"  
  
The large, bulky figure bending over him was suffocating. With a sharp cry, he pushed the corpse of his former master aside. He closed his eyes and slumped to the ground, fighting off exhaustion.  
  
Another presence. He snapped his eyes open and reached for his discarded katana.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
His eyes snapped open. They were fierce amber.  
  
Kaoru started. Before she could call his name, he drew his sword and swung it toward her throat. She briefly registered the hand fisted in the cloth of her kimono, drawing her toward him. Steel dug into her skin.  
  
His eyes widened. He threw her away from him, roughly. She grabbed her bleeding neck from her crumpled position on the floor and looked up.  
  
Blood ran down the edge. His hand was curled around the blade, killing its momentum. His eyes were wide purple. The sound of his heavy pants filled the room. He began to tremble violently.  
  
"Kenshin," she called wincing at the pain.  
  
He raised his head and stared at her as if she were a ghost.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Kenshin," she called hoarsely.  
  
He pulled his blade on her. On Kaoru!  
  
He raised his head. Her face was pale, panic written across its delicate features. Dark, midnight tresses spilled loosely over her shoulders. Her kimono was pale blue and her eyes dark sapphire. The dim moonlight, invading through his open window, gave her an ethereal glow.  
  
Then he saw red. Her fingers were clutched around her throat, sticky with blood. He shook in rage and fear. He had never been so sickened by the sight of gore.  
  
"Kenshin," she called again softly. She was beside him on her knees. Uncertainly, she placed a hand on his arm. The hand mesmerized him. He shrugged it off.  
  
"Don't touch," he hissed.  
  
"Why?" she looked at him with angelic eyes.  
  
"I killed you," he whispered.  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
He lifted his eyes to the wound. Just a shallow cut. He sucked in a grateful breath.  
  
"You're hurt," she pried his hand off the blade. Just a scratch.  
  
"It's nothing. Don't."  
  
"You're wrong," she cut him off. "What's this?" she held out his top.  
  
He stared.  
  
"A memory," he answered.  
  
"What memory?"  
  
"Family," he said after a brief pause. "Innocence."  
  
"You have hope," she took his uninjured hand and placed the top inside. "Don't lose your heart, Kenshin."  
  
Never.  
  
She stood to leave.  
  
"Kaoru-san?"  
  
"Hai."  
  
"Let me treat your wound," he reached for the small box of bandages and ointment he kept handy to treat minor sword wounds, inflicted on careless nights. She knelt beside him again. He liberally applied the ointment and bandaged the wound with careful, strong hands.  
  
"Done."  
  
She rose and bid him farewell with a smile.  
  
"Why?" he asked.  
  
She paused in the doorway, "why, what?"  
  
Why did you say I have hope? I could have killed you tonight."  
  
"Yes," she nodded. "I surprised you." she gestured toward his hand. "Thank you for saving my life. Take care of yourself."  
  
He stared at her back as she slid the shoji shut behind her. The scent of jasmine permeated through the room, legacy of her passing. The sun already stained the horizon.  
  
"I had to," he murmured. "I couldn't kill you." 


	3. White Plum

A/N: I'd just like to clear up some confusion. The dream was not a memory. It was just a standard 'blurring images and metaphors' nightmare. I know Kenshin did not kill Hiko (God forbid!) I have been a Kenshin fan for QUITE some time and have read translations of the manga, watched all 95 anime episodes subtitled, and watched the OVA's (including the infamous Seisouhen. Was I the only one cracking up at how OUT OF CHARACTER that was?! Sony should be punished for releasing that. It's only redeeming qualities were the animation and the Enishi fight, which should have been longer.) I hope by now I know what I'm talking about. As for Kaoru replacing Tomoe, that will tend to happen in an A/U with Kaoru in the Bakumatsu. And while I have no particular fondness for the frigid android not programmed for facial expression (just needed to get that out of my system,) I don't completely ignore her or paint her in a negative light. Anyway, thanks for the support and feel free to criticize away.

Disclaimer: If I owned Kenshin, I would have sued Sony for Seisouhen, screwing up the potential the Shimabara arc had, and not animating the Jinchuu arc. Come on, people! Big hint!

----------

Chapter 3: White Plum

By Kenkaya

Kaoru entered the bar. She had a long day.

Loud, rancorous song filled the stuffy room. She ordered and sat by the door, reveling in the small wisp of fresh air that accompanied each new addition to the chaos. Her mind was a jumble.

She subconsciously raised a hand to the faded wound he gave her. The other girls noticed the morning she came down, bandaged. Making up some story about falling and injuring her neck, she went about her duties, ignoring the skeptical whispers that seemed to fill the empty silence.

He was dying, a simple wooden top his only link to sanity.

Why did he save her?

A gust of chilled wind tousled her raven locks. Pondering sapphire met somber ebony as the enchantingly beautiful woman entered. Her gaze was haunting, speaking of untold tragedy. Her hair was pitch, curving to frame her pale features. A plain white kimono only accented her elegance. In her wake, she left the distilled scent of white plum.

The woman who smelled of white plum sat at the table behind Kaoru, ordering chilled sake. From the exclamations of amazement, the woman downed her drink impressively.

"Hey, woman, have a drink with us?"

The woman ignored the two roughnecks with silent dignity.

"Hey, have a drink with us! We're Aizu patriots! Drinking with us's the least you could do to thank us!"

"We risk our lives for the common people!"

"Aizu's on the Bafuku side, ahou!" a random patron shouted.

"What was that?!"

Kaoru shook her head in disgust, "Mou!" she slammed her palms against the table as she stood. "Can't a woman drink in peace anymore!"

"Who are you?"

She frowned, "None of your goddamn business." Of all the skills she learned among the Ishin Shishi, her broadened vocabulary was one she rarely indulged in.

"Wanna drink too, jou-chan?" a drunk inquired, lifting his nearly empty bottle with a lopsided grin. Revulsion swept over her. She'd fended off sober men more reputable then these!

"No, thank you," she responded with an exagerated polite nod. "And I don't think the lady is much interested either."

"Are you sure?" one of the drunks purred. She answered with a defiant glare. The woman who smelled of white plum stared at her, a glint of inquisitiveness amid the somber ebony her only reaction.

"When a woman says no, she damn well means it!"

"I don't see a woman, I see a pretty little girl without her daddy," the drunk stroked her sleeve with his fingertips.

"Pervert!" she cried as she slapped his hand away.

"You little bitch!" the man roared, poised to draw the katana at his hip.

"Draw your blade and I will be forced to draw mine," a soft voice called from the corner.

"Kenshin," she breathed, recognizing him immediately.

He calmly set his sake down, feral amber glowering.

"Let me give you some advice. The violence is only going to get worse. Kyoto is no place for false patriots."

Her assailant, wasted as he was, registered a short, skinny red-haired boy. He stepped to the challenge.

"Just who do you think you are, boy? Can you even draw that sword of yours?" he sniggered. "Looks a little heavy to."

"Tetsu, back off," another drunk, with focused eyes, yelped.

"Aw, can't I have a little fun with the midget?"

Kenshin uttered a bestial growl.

"Back the fuck off!"

"Alright, 'right," the drunk mumbled.

"Get out of here you frauds!" another yelled.

"Run back to the mud hole you came from!"

The two roughnecks exited the bar, grumbling. Kenshin threw his payment on the table and left shortly afterwards.

She glanced at his retreating back before turning to the woman who smelled of white plum. The woman was watching him, intensely.

"Ano. sorry about the fuss," she apologized. "Mou! I just can't stand men like that!"

The women observed her clinically. Her sorrowful eyes bared the only emotion on her being.

"Ano. my name's Kaoru," she said nervously. "Do you know Kenshin?"

The woman stared at the vibrant young girl before her.

"You mean the young man who helped us, Kaoru-san," she finally spoke. "I do not know him. My name is Yukishiro Tomoe."

"Oh, I see. Well, I need to get back to work. Nice meeting you Tomoe-san."

"Farewell, Kaoru-san."

She left her bill on the table and headed back toward the inn.

The evening seemed peaceful, void of the familiar metallic gore. She sighed in annoyance as a couple raindrops spattered against her face. A damp breeze played with her high ponytail when she heard a scream ahead. She stopped. She survived nearly a year in Kyoto by avoiding such noises. Another cry.

Wait! That sounded like Kenshin!

She ran forward, letting her feet carry her where they willed.

But he didn't get a black envelope today. Did he?

Her mind was a daze. Her heart was pounding. As such, she didn't notice the ghostly figure that followed through the rain, leaving a trail of white plum.

----------

Kenshin groaned, rubbing his temples against a tension headache. Men like that never got to him before.

Before, they hadn't touched her.

He no longer shied from the complete truth in his mind. He cared for Kaoru. She was innocent, full of life, never cowering from his presence. She also cried. She hid her emotional turmoil, shelving the burden, to release the pain where it would remain hers alone. Despite these factors, she was strong. She fought against Iizuka to preserve her dignity and stood up to armed men in bars to guard another's. She was selfless.

He would protect her with his life.

Movement. He was being watched. Sliding effortlessly into the shadows, he heard a blood-curling shriek. One of the drunks from the bar (the one who touched her!) ran into the open street, calling for help and begging for mercy. He didn't flinch as the blade impaled the man, a pool of crimson congealing in the clotted dirt beneath the fresh corpse. He felt a sadistic smile creep up.

"Hitokiri Battousai," the masked assassin called, stepping from his element. He was large, wielding two blades connected by a long chain.

"What is this?"

They were both hitokiri; shadow assassins. Destined to a life as secrets and half-cooked rumors. History would forget their pain; the future would never know their triumphs. What was the point of introductions?

Rain began to fall.

"Don't play innocent with me. I've been waiting for you and I will have your life."

Without warning the man threw the twin swords forward. Battousai leapt, dodging the blades easily. Only quick reflexes saved him from strangulation as the chain wrapped around his neck and hastily thrust fist. He cried out. His opponent smirked. Battousai's lips twitched. Jumping off an adjacent wall, the assassin reached to thrust both blades into his prey. Battousai had other ideas. He twisted, using the chain to pull his aggressor off balance. The man spun around and pulled the twin swords back in defense. Battousai wretched as the man braced himself against another wall. Same old tricks. The katana sliced through the assassins gut, neatly cutting him in half. Intrails fell to the ground with a sickening thunk. Blood sprayed upward, baptizing the young hitokiri in sticky ocher.

A gasp. He turned, panting, poised for the next kill. She stood there, drenched in blood, sapphire eyes wide.

"I--- I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know I wasn't supposed to see." He barely caught the subdued phrase. He heard the katana clatter to the ground. His hands were numb, stained.

Her yellow kimono was ruined. Crimson droplets cascaded down her raven locks and ivory face. The faint scent of jasmine that always seemed to embrace her was lost amidst the metallic stench. Her eyelashes were heavy with the thick substance.

He had bathed her in his sins.

----------

Kaoru arrived just in time to see a large assassin charging Kenshin with two blades. A chain wrapped around his throat and raised fist. She almost called out to him when he twisted, knocked the assassin off balance and swiftly sliced him through the middle.

Red washed over her. She stared at him through blood coated eyelashes, and said the first thing she could think of; a painful memory, standing in warm, summer rain, letting the pure liquid wash over her body as Keisuke enveloped her in his arms. A whispered apology she didn't understand until too late. A broken promise to protect her eyes from the plight of war and rain of bloodshed. Warm pressure on her lips.

"I--- I'm sorry. I know I wasn't supposed to see."

Kenshin stared in shock. His katana fell from limp hands. They faced each other.

"What are you doing here?!" Kenshin finally snapped.

"I was afraid," she whispered.

"Then you should have run away."

"I'm sorry, I was just afraid."

The two stood there, cool droplets obscuring the distance between them. Tainted mud swirled beneath their sandaled feet, reflecting the condition of both souls.

"I need to bathe," she said after a long pause, attention turned to her soiled kimono. "And so do you."

He nodded, understanding perfectly. Silently taking her hand, he picked up his sword and led her towards a dark alley.

"Kenshin, what are you---"

"We can't be seen in these clothes."

She held her breath as he expertly led her from one shadow to the next, walking under overhangs when he could to shield them from the rain. Soon lost in the maze of backstreets, her mind focused on the young red-head before her. She didn't understand.

I knew he was a hitokiri. I've seen him walk in late with blood-stained clothes. He couldn't have reacted just because I saw him kill. Was he concerned? Is that possible?

"Here," he said, breaking her out of her daze. They had reached the inn. "Go bathe and get some sleep. Forget what you saw tonight."

He rushed up the stairs to his room.

"You need to wash too."

"Later," he called in mid-step.

"You can't just neglect yourself like this! What if you start smelling like blood all the time?"

He was silent.

"Kenshin?"

"Nothing. I'll come down later."

"Kenshin," she scolded lightly.

She heard an exasperated sigh, "I will."

She smiled, "good."

-----------

Kenshin shook his head as he heard Kaoru enter the bathhouse. Kami, the way she berated him you'd think they were married. Married? He pushed the thought away before it could develop further.

He slid the shoji shut behind him and settled by the window.

She saw me kill a man. I wanted to protect her. Now she's washing the gore off her body, a ritual I've done countless times. What if she was just a second sooner? What if the assassin noticed?

Hands cradling his sore head, his mind lingered on her words.

"You can't neglect yourself like this. What if you start smelling like blood all the time?"

But I always smell like blood. It soaks into my skin, my pores, saturating my very essence. She can't see that? Is she so forgiving? So loving? No. She'll find someone more suited to her. Someone who's not a killer. Someone who'll survive. Maybe that man she's looking for.

But he didn't want her to be with anyone else.

He remembered the top. He pulled it out, examining the wood's grainy surface. The inanimate object didn't seem quite so alive.

"Don't be foolish," he muttered to himself before leaning back and steeling himself for frenzied dreams.

----------

Kaoru stared at the pink rivulets running down her arms. Her thoughts were far away.

She knew she loved him. She tried to convince herself he was nothing but a cold-blooded killer; she couldn't. All she wanted was to stay by his side.

But, does he love me?

And what about her mission? Keisuke's departure played in her mind over and over relentlessly; the rain, the whisper, and the kiss. Her first kiss.

He left to fight for the Shogunate, breaking her heart. What she once saw as love, she now realized was infatuation. She knew Keisuke since childhood; she hung off his arm, called him 'nii-chan,' cheered as he became her father's top student. He was the first man to shower her with affection.

She thought she knew Keisuke. How could he leave them? Her? Without hesitation she packed and followed, against better judgment and her father's orders.

I love Kenshin. I still want to find Keisuke, but for father's sake. He was like a son to him. Keisuke is my brother, now. Nothing more.

She blinked. The water ran clear. She stood. Embarrassed, she realized she didn't bring a change of clothes and slipped back into the polluted kimono. She walked inside.

"Kenshin?" she called, tapping on his shoji. She slid it open, disregarding modesty. She found him in his soiled blue gi, dosing by the window.

"What?"

She jumped, "Don't scare me like that! I thought you were sleeping."

"I was."

Guilt emerged, soon replaced by uncouth anger.

"Kenshin! What are you doing sleeping in those clothes?! You told me you would wash yourself!" she walked up and felt the edge of his sleeve. "It's still wet too! You'll get sick! If I hadn't come up here, you'd still be sleeping! Promise me you'll go down there and wash up right now!"

"Why?"

"Eh?"

"Why do you care?" his voice was low, but she would have heard that demanding tone in a crowded street.

"Well, I--- idiot, because I care!"

"Why?"

"What do you mean, 'why?'"

"Why do you care?"

"I know that. I meant why do you need to know--- I--- can't really answer your question as it is."

"Nevermind," he mumbled. "I'll go bathe."

He rose from his position by the window, brushing by her. He didn't comment on the kimono she still wore.

Does he love me?


	4. Burning Flames

A/N: Well, took me long enough for an edit job. It would have taken me even longer if I hadn't gone to Anime Expo and gotten the 'Let It Burn' soundtrack. The music really put me in the mood to start up on this again. I also got the Kenshin Kaden art book but enough bragging. This is the last chapter I wrote before giving up on this story so many months ago. Therefore, updates from now on will most likely be exceedingly slow. I also tend to use metaphors a lot in my writing so unless I state it very plainly, don't take everything I write at face value. And for you cannon sticklers, don't worry, this will be Saitou/Tokio at the end. *laughs evilly* No one, I mean NO ONE, is going to guess this twist! The pledges that follow this note were written by my friend, Kynd, and I thought they were a good laugh. Enjoy!  
  
In dedication of Hiko making his American debut: I pledge allegiance to the sword of the Man: Seijuro Hiko of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, and to the God-ness personified for which he stands, one series, under Hiko, invincible, with kick ass fights and coolness for all.  
  
I pledge Allegiance to the Wolf, Saitou Hajime of the Shinsengumi, and to the badass skills for which he possesses, one man, with his massive skills, that can beat anyone who isn't a main character.  
  
Disclaimer: Expo left me a little wiped out in the dough department. I don't think I'll be buying the rights anytime soon.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 4: Burning Flames  
  
By Kenkaya  
  
Kaoru slumped against the wall. Before her, the Shinsengumi marched lordly. That smile, she would never forget it.  
  
"Why?" she breathed.  
  
Keisuke moved across her sight, adorned in a sea green coat; uniform of the Shinsengumi. He spoke animatedly to a man at his side. Steel swords swung proudly at his hip. Laughter graced his lips.  
  
He was beyond reach now.  
  
His head swerved toward her. Reflexively, she shrank into the crowd.  
  
"What is it, Takahata-san?" she heard a swordsman ask as they passed.  
  
"Nothing, I thought I smelled jasmine, that's all. It's the scent she wore."  
  
"She? You have to grace us with that---"  
  
The voices faded as they moved. She released bated breath.  
  
If you loved me, why did you leave? Why did you fall out of father's favor? Did you think I would just sit and wait for you? You don't know me at all.  
  
The street began to fill again. She ducked for cover.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Kenshin leaned into the doorway as the Shinsengumi passed. The street emptied ahead of them, tension clinging in the air where they passed.  
  
"Look at them so high and mighty," Iizuka snorted from behind him. "Think they own the damn city."  
  
Kenshin felt heavy paper slide up his sleeve.  
  
"Tonight," Iizuka whispered before departing.  
  
Kenshin nodded, placing his hands discreetly inside his dark gi to secure the black envelope. He stepped out slowly, acting with an air of indifference.  
  
A black ponytail flashed his side vision. He turned just in time to see her run down an alley. Distress shimmered off her in waves. Without thinking, he followed.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Gone.  
  
Kaoru ran down the alley. Stumbled. The summer sun hung high. Beating down. She tripped. Fell. Her body slammed across hardened mud.  
  
Keisuke was gone. She could never reach him now. She could never go home.  
  
"Never!" she wailed, clutching her face.  
  
A warm hand on her shoulder. She lifted her sapphire gaze to meet hardened amethyst. The second time he caught her crying.  
  
"S--- sorry," she stuttered, wiping her watery eyes. "I'm so weak."  
  
"No."  
  
She stared, "what a--- are you talking about? I--- I break down so easy. You ne--- never cry."  
  
He glared at her pointedly, "no?"  
  
"No. Y--- you're strong."  
  
He shook his head, "you don't know anything."  
  
"W--- what?!" her temper flared, quickly dispersing the sniffles. "What do you mean by that?!"  
  
His mouth quirked.  
  
"Is something funny?!" she glowered, noticing the movement.  
  
"No. It seems you've stopped crying. I'll be on my way now."  
  
As he turned to leave, Kaoru stood, speechless.  
  
"You did that on purpose!" she called at his retreating back.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Eh?"  
  
He looked back at her with narrowed eyes, "you're not weak. I don't want to hear you say it ever again."  
  
"It's not like you're going to kill me or something if I do."  
  
He shook his head with a slight smile, "nevermind." He walked away, leaving Kaoru to follow in confusion.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"I heard things didn't go well at the last meeting."  
  
"No," Katsura shook his head.  
  
"Is it true you struck Miyabe?"  
  
"Iizuka."  
  
"Excuse me, what is it you summoned me for?"  
  
Katsura cleared his throat. He was a charismatic man, leader of the Choshu domain of the Ishin Shishi. His dark hair was pulled back in the usual samurai topknot. In the background, a young geisha played music. A long, purple kimono flared around her petite form.  
  
"I need to know about Himura."  
  
Iizuka sighed, "His sword has dulled recently according to the inspectors, but he still works with fluid efficiency. He hasn't changed one bit from my perspective."  
  
"I see," Katsura nodded, politely sipping his sake. "He's still pure."  
  
"That's good."  
  
"No, he's at conflict with himself. Unless he finds something to shield him from the chaos in his mind, he'll eventually snap.  
  
"Well," Iizuka stood. "I'll leave you to ponder your next meeting with Miyabe. Until then."  
  
"Take care. Tell the others to watch out for Shinsengumi."  
  
The geisha halted her playing and shuffled graceful to open the shoji. Iizuka exited with a nod to the young woman and she slid the shoji shut behind him.  
  
"Done with politics for the night?" she asked with a gentle voice.  
  
"Yes, Ikomatsu."  
  
"Would you like some more sake?"  
  
"No. The drink tastes sour tonight."  
  
Ikomatsu leaned forward, concern in her eyes. "What's wrong?"  
  
Katsura clenched his teeth.  
  
"They want Kyoto aflame."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Saitou Hajime, third captain of the Shinsengumi, sat brooding on the inn steps. Brown hair ran down his back with four antenna-like tendrils hanging in his slanted, amber eyes. Stars reflected in the feral, amber pools. The plans had been laid; he hoped the mysterious hitokiri of the Ishin Shishi would be at the Ikedaya Inn tomorrow night. Such a unique sword style coupled with a strong individual would make for a worthwhile fight. He chuckled at the stars in anticipation.  
  
"Saitou-san?"  
  
Saitou gazed into the face of a dolorous young woman, sitting on the shadowed porch steps near him. A purple shawl hugged her shoulders. His narrow eyes flicked up and down her lithe figure before he responded.  
  
"Who are you, woman?"  
  
The woman nodded bashfully, "please excuse my rudeness. I'm one of the new workers at the inn. My name is Yukishiro Tomoe."  
  
"I see. Why do you disturb me?"  
  
"Forgive me. It is late and I thought I was alone."  
  
"You were mistaken. I find it quite suspicious for a woman to be out alone at night."  
  
"More so than a man?"  
  
"I am a suspicious man."  
  
"How do you know I am not a suspicious woman?"  
  
"I suppose I don't," Saitou replied. It was then he realized she was holding a sheathed dagger close to her chest. He quirked a slender eyebrow and she followed his gaze. Rising quickly, Tomoe bowed submissively and ran into the sanctuary of the inn.  
  
Meanwhile, in another inn across the city, Kenshin walked in late. His blue gi was stained with fresh blood.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Kaoru stormed down the hall, grumbling. She was supposed to clean the rooms today. Rooms where men resided. Men were messy.  
  
She slammed the shoji open to another veritable pigpen. Rolling back her lavender sleeves, she dug into the fray, discarding and organizing various items. She leaned into the floor and scrubbed an off-white stain with a rag. She honestly didn't want to know what the substance was.  
  
"Where are you from?" a masculine voice drifted through the rice paper.  
  
"What?" a woman's voice, which Kaoru immediately recognized as Miriko's, answered.  
  
"Where is your family?"  
  
"In Osaka, why?"  
  
"You have to go there."  
  
"What? Why? Is something wrong?"  
  
"Kyoto is not safe. Especially tonight. Just go, don't ask questions. Please."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"Trust me."  
  
The voices faded away as Kaoru slid the shoji shut behind her and continued down the hall. The Ishin Shishi were planning something tonight, that much she gained from the snippets of conversation she overheard. Sighing, she opened the shoji to Kenshin's room.  
  
The sight of an immaculate room was always heaven on earth after a hard cleaning session. Kenshin never cluttered his room like the other men. Kaoru attributed this phenomenon to the fact that Kenshin spent a great deal of time out of his room not to mention his lack of personal belongings.  
  
Grabbing the broom, Kaoru stepped inside to rid the room of dust collecting in the forlorn corners.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Kenshin walked down the dusty road, a straw hat obscuring his face.  
  
"The meeting's tonight," Iizuka whispered beside him. "Miyabe and Katsura are at odds and to top it off, Miyabe is warning the men to send their women away. He's planning something BIG."  
  
"I see."  
  
"Well?" Iizuka questioned expectedly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Aren't you going to warn off anybody?"  
  
"Why? I barely see or speak to any of the women."  
  
"Yeah, I'd say that one girl that you seem to get along with, but she's not into men."  
  
"Just because she got the better of you?"  
  
"Ah, you heard about that."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Well at least you're not laughing. I didn't find it funny. Hurt like HELL! It's nice to finally get some sympathy, but I never though I'd get it from you!"  
  
"There is nothing funny about stupidity," Kenshin responded in a deadpan tone.  
  
"Damn---"  
  
The men reached the inn and separated. Kenshin made a beeline straight to his room. When he opened the shoji, he found Kaoru inside sweeping. The girl turned azure eyes on him.  
  
"Yes, Kenshin?"  
  
He stood there for a moment, pondering Iizuka's words. The men were warned to send their women away because of danger. Should he put Kaoru through that risk? But if he took action, signs would be read.  
  
"Nothing," he replied.  
  
Kaoru nodded and turned back to her sweeping. After a while she paused, as if deep in thought.  
  
"Kenshin?" she finally broke the silence. "Do you have plans tonight at the Gion Festival?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Well, Okami-san gave me the night off. I was wondering--- I was thinking of getting a drink and, well, I'm kind of tired of going alone."  
  
Kenshin stared at the young girl's back as she continued to sweep. She wanted him to accompany her. His first instincts warred between refusal and acceptance. Once again, Iizuka's voice played in his head. An important meeting tonight. And telling the men to warn away their women.  
  
"I will escort you," he answered, not wanting to carelessly place her in anymore danger. Kaoru gave him a side glance and nodded her thanks. He watched her back, silhouetted against the setting sunlight shining through his open window. Her raven hair hung loose today, tied at the nape of her neck with a simple strip of cloth. Her lavender kimono accented the dark length down her back. Her movements were smooth, not graceful, but filled with strength and precision. Almost like a sword dance.  
  
"I did your room last. I'll go get ready now."  
  
Kenshin snapped out of his revere and watched her leave. Somehow, he managed a sniff, "hai" in response.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The bar was less crowded than usual, seeing as so many people flooded the festivities. A few regulars were the only customers besides Kenshin and Kaoru. They shared a bottle of sake, occasionally taking a sip from their cups as they talked, Kaoru taking part in most of the latter.  
  
"Where are you from?"  
  
"That is a vague question," Kenshin replied.  
  
"Alright then, where did you live before you came here?"  
  
"The mountains."  
  
"That is a vague answer," Kaoru parried.  
  
"It's the truth."  
  
"Fine, what were you doing in the mountains?"  
  
"Training."  
  
"Training? You must have had a master of some sort?"  
  
"Yes. He took care of me and taught me the sword. I came here to use that training," Kenshin sipped his sake, effectively breaking his flow of conversation.  
  
"You came here to be a hitokiri?" Kaoru questioned a bit ludicrously.  
  
"Not necessarily. I came here to help the people who suffer because of the government. The sword is all I know so I came to use that."  
  
"So you kill to save people's lives."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Sometimes I wonder if that's all a sword is good for."  
  
"A sword is a weapon. Kenjiitsu is learning how to kill," Kenshin quoted his former master with ease.  
  
"My father thought differently. He said a sword should be a weapon of peace, of protection, not war. When people realized this, the world would truly be free of suffering. But now, living in the midst of war, I'm beginning to question the philosophies he drilled into me from the cradle. How can a sword save lives when it takes so many?"  
  
"It was a foolish dream."  
  
"Maybe so," Kaoru pondered wistfully. "But it was a nice dream. That's why, no matter how important he is to me, I could never forgive Keisuke. He promised."  
  
"Who is Keisuke?" Kenshin let out a little more sharply then he intended. Kaoru blanched and raised a hand to her mouth in shock.  
  
"Did I--- say that out loud?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Well--- I guess I should tell you since I did slip," Kaoru shifted nervously. "Basically, Keisuke was my father's top student. He had family problems so my father practically raised him. A little over a year ago, he packed up, defied my father, and set off to Kyoto to fight. My father was devastated so I came here originally to bash some sense into him and drag him back, against my father's wishes. As you can see, my brilliant plan wasn't my most successful."  
  
Kenshin couldn't help thinking Kaoru was dodging around her feelings on the matter. However, he kept this observation to himself and voiced another opinion instead.  
  
"I wouldn't call that a plan."  
  
"Oh? And just what would you call it?"  
  
"Impulsive action."  
  
"And I'm certain you thought out your own little escapade quite thoroughly."  
  
Kenshin remained silent after this, confirming Kaoru's statement.  
  
"You're nobody to judge," Kaoru snorted at him. "Besides, I try not to dwell on past regrets, too depressing. What we do with our future is more important than that. More important than killing and stupid mistakes."  
  
Kenshin stared at Kaoru, sloshing the liquid in her cup before draining it. He reached to pour her another, which she sipped daintily before abandoning the effort. She swirled the alcohol again, placing her chin in the dip of her palm as she thought.  
  
"Sometimes I wonder what people think when they die. Just what was going through that man's head when he scarred your cheek?"  
  
"If I thought about that, I wouldn't be able to kill them."  
  
"Ah, so that's it," Kaoru exclaimed quietly. "You desensitize yourself because if you saw them as people with lives, if you knew them, you wouldn't have the heart to kill them. The sword isn't killing them because you have the power to hold it back. Perhaps there is some logic in father's fairytale. I'm just not sure anymore."  
  
Before Kenshin could respond, Iizuka burst into the bar and ran to their table, panting.  
  
"Himura! The meeting--- ambush! The Shinsengumi found out and busted up the meeting!"  
  
"Katsura---"  
  
"We're not sure where he is. Miyabe and a few of the others committed suicide to escape enemy hands. Come on, we need you there!" Iizuka urged.  
  
Kenshin nodded and turned to leave when he saw Kaoru rise out of the corner of his eye. He whirled around to face her.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Coming with you," Kaoru stated casually.  
  
"No."  
  
"What should I do then?"  
  
"Go back to the inn."  
  
"They knew about the Ikedaya, how do you know they don't know about the others?"  
  
"Himura, we don't have time for you to argue this!" Iizuka exasperated.  
  
"Alright," Kenshin sighed. He grabbed Kaoru's hand and followed Iizuka out of the bar. Kaoru jogged behind as he stringed her along, cursing the societal norm which wrapped women in such constricting clothing.  
  
"How many units are there?" Kenshin questioned.  
  
"I'm not entirely sure. Damn, the whole place was overrun! I barely got away myself! At least four, if not more from my judgment."  
  
"Damn," Kenshin muttered.  
  
They slipped through the hoards of festival goers, bumping into countless people. Kaoru could hear the rowdy catcalls, roaring laughter, and endless chatter melting into each other. The whirling colors blurred together in her side vision, giving off a slightly dizzying effect. A hand slapped her behind sharply and she squeaked at the indignity.  
  
"What is it?" Kenshin asked, cocking his head to watch her out of the corner of his eye.  
  
"Some--- someone touched me."  
  
Kaoru felt the pressure on her hand pull her forward until she was practically leaning against his figure. The hand enveloping hers tightened almost possessively. A swaying red ponytail consumed her sight, bringing focus and calm to her mad dash. Kenshin guided her swiftly, never releasing his hold, noticing for the first time that her hands were strangely calloused for a woman. All too soon, the movement stopped and Kaoru bumped into his corded back.  
  
"They're here," Kenshin announced softly.  
  
"I'll run on ahead while you take care of them. We're counting on you, Himura," Iizuka bowed his head before continuing on. Kenshin prepared for a lunge when he felt two small hands clasp his own over the handle of his katana. He looked back into the determined face of Kaoru.  
  
"Please," she whispered. "I want to see a sword kill with my own eyes. Please."  
  
Kenshin nodded in understanding and stepped slowly around the corner. Kaoru's gaze followed every movement. The soldiers, adorned in their sea green coats, turned to face the petite man.  
  
"Who are you?" one of the men, apparently the leader, all but shouted.  
  
"It does not matter. You are in the way," Kenshin declared as he grasped the handle of his sword. The Shinsengumi foot soldiers could only watched horrified as the hitokiri unleashed the blade. One of their comrades plodded to the ground, blood gurgling from his skewered throat. The assassin eyed the survivors, amber gleaming eerily. The others gapped. They had barely seen him move.  
  
"It--- it's him! The hitokiri!"  
  
Battousai surged forward in a flash of cold steel. Spin, back step, lunge, thrust. Metal clashed in a cruel dance. Slashed throat, impaled chest, run through his shoulder, slice the vein; everything was almost mechanical. That was the only way she could describe the battle as she watched with watery blue eyes. Mechanical. Battousai sprinted forward and the soldier swung down. Grating metal rung through her ears. Battousai twisted his blade, dislodging the other, flicking his wrist expertly to convert the movement into a smooth upward swing. Screams filled the darkness as the man clutched the bloody stump of his arm.  
  
Kaoru couldn't help herself, sick fascination overwhelmed her better senses. She stepped out of the shadows to stand in the middle of the deserted road. She stared in rapture as scarlet blossomed on sea green while the man cradled his mutilated limb. His echoed cries became hollow as she watched his pain, reflections of human pain. The pain of her heart, the pain of Keisuke's departure, the pain of her father's loss, the pain of Kenshin's duty, the suffering of everyday toil, the agony of knowing you, like every human being, were destined to die. To suffer in some inexplicable way. Kenshin did not give the man much time to ponder the pain, a quick thrust pinned him to the wall by the throat. A low pitched crack was heard as the man's spine severed. He released the body to slide down to its brethren. Kaoru's eyes followed, unable to break the contact. Blood poured out of his vacant gaze, staining him and the ground where he fell.  
  
Kenshin turned to find Kaoru in a daze, eyes riveted to the corpse at his feet. The expression on her face came deathly close to frightening him, a warped mixture of horror and joy. That face belonged to him, not her.  
  
"Kaoru."  
  
The girl broke the trance, looking up at him with doleful eyes. Kenshin's eyes were no longer amber but a hard edged blue. He teetered on the border of the violet eyed boy and the hardened killer. Kaoru allowed her gaze to slip from him to the bodies littering the ground. She paused for a moment on each one. That man had a wife who would never hold him again. That one had a child would have only faded memories of a father's face. And that one with the tussled black hair, he was her Keisuke. She looked up at the young man who inflicted this damage. A young man who wouldn't let himself see the people beyond the cooling flesh. A young man who killed more of himself everyday to uphold this futile charade. Kaoru shed a single tear. Kenshin's eyes fastened on the crystalline drop as it tracked down her cheek.  
  
"Don't cry," he said softly.  
  
"I'm mourning."  
  
"What are you mourning?" Kenshin whispered.  
  
"You," Kaoru whispered just as softly.  
  
Kenshin blinked in confusion and shook his head. He didn't have time to ponder Kaoru's actions. He continued his trek to the Ikedaya, Kaoru jogging behind him. He stopped at a corner when he heard voices. Kaoru bumped lightly against him and gasped. A group of seven Shinsengumi were huddled, speaking hurriedly in low voices. At the fore was a tall man with brown hair and slanted amber eyes. Kenshin grabbed Kaoru's arm to pull them out of sight.  
  
"Keisuke."  
  
The breathless word left Kenshin frozen. His feet stopped working and narrowed eyes darted to the group. As if on instinct, a young green-eyed boy with black hair turned toward them. Kenshin found himself pushed against the shadowed wall before he could react. Kaoru pressed herself against him, her black head nuzzled into his chest.  
  
"Takahata."  
  
"Sorry, Saitou-san, I thought I heard something. I must be really homesick because I thought I saw Kao-chan for a moment."  
  
Kenshin felt Kaoru wince at the nickname.  
  
"Your woman?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"In that case, I suggest you get your mind off petty affairs and back on the subject at hand."  
  
"Hai, Saitou-san."  
  
Kenshin knew Kaoru was shaking. Her body was rigid and she curdled into him almost desperately. In the shadows, sandwiched between a wall and a woman, only one thought crossed his mind: she didn't want him to see her. At the back of his thoughts, one voice still parroted his duty without reprieve. Not giving a second thought, he reached for the katana at his side. For the second time that night, two slender hands covered his own. When he looked into her pleading eyes, he knew she would not let go. He couldn't refuse those eyes. Nodding his ascent, he switched the position of their hands and led her away. Saitou looked up to catch two indistinct figures fading into the night.  
  
"Saitou-san?"  
  
"Nothing," Saitou grumbled and brought his attention back to their discussion.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Katsura sat under a bridge in the burning city of Kyoto. A straw hat obscured his face and a worn cloak disguised his features. Beside him stood a short red-haired swordsman accompanied by a shorter black-haired woman wearing a torn kimono. Their expressions were grim.  
  
"Our bases are being flushed out, the city's in chaos--- all our hard work---"  
  
"What do we do?" the redhead questioned.  
  
"We need to hide out, replenish our resources. I have a small house in Otsu where you'll be safe, Himura. A married couple will be less suspicious than a single man. Kaoru, stay with him. I have an insider in a small shrine along the way. He can marry you two to keep questions at bay and when this ordeal is over, I'll have him destroy the records and no one will be any the wiser."  
  
Kenshin and Kaoru stood speechless at this request.  
  
"What will you do?" Kenshin asked, cutting the tension.  
  
"I have to hide out as well. I'll send an informant to keep you updated about our position. Here," Katsura handed Kenshin a folded a piece of paper. "These are directions to the shrine and house as well as a written note to the priest who will marry you. Burn it as soon as you reach Otsu. I hope you fare well." Kenshin watched Katsura's retreating back before he turned to Kaoru.  
  
"What should we do? Should we go to Otsu?"  
  
Kaoru looked at him with a small smile. The distant flames reflected in her sapphire eyes.  
  
"As husband and wife?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Saitou stormed into camp. He was grimy, sweaty, and throbbed in pain from a shoulder wound where a stray blade had managed to stab him. The heady after effects of battle were still with him. He grinned. Perhaps he shouldn't have drunken all that sake before hand. Alcohol always got his blood running.  
  
In the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of white. He turned his head to see Tomoe sitting on the ground. She was holding her dagger again, staring intently into the metallic depths as if searching for an answer. Or a question. Saitou barely had time to wonder why a woman was sitting in the middle of an army camp when she glanced over her shoulder, catching his amber eyes with her ebony. She sheathed the small blade, rose, and placed the dagger discreetly in the square tie of her obi. She bowed politely in his direction and floated away. Saitou's face remained impassive as he shook his head slightly in awe. The woman was indeed suspicious. He was intrigued. 


	5. Quiet Life

A/N: Yes, believe it or not, this story is not dead. My life has been very hectic the past two years and as luck -note sarcasm- would have it, the file where I saved this story became corrupted when I was ten pages into the next chapter. I hate to admit it, but for the first time I nearly abandoned a story out of pure frustration. But I persevered and remained determined to finish. Luckily (and this time I'm not being sarcastic) I managed to recover some data but I still had to rewrite a good portion of the beginning (which was extremely difficult since I had written it over a year ago.) I would like to thank everyone who didn't give up on me: Javal, kokoronagomu, and everyone else who reviewed me patiently. You guys gave me the willpower to finally get this long, overdue chapter out! This one's for you!

Disclaimer: Nope, still a poor college student.

----------

Chapter 5: Quiet Life

By Kenkaya

Kaoru awoke to birdsong. Blinking open sleep crusted eyes; she rolled lazily out of bed in a bundle of morning disarray. The girl was, simply put, a mess; pale green robe twisted indecently in places and sticking to her body like a second skin amid the balmy Indian summer breeze. Feminine modesty kicked in and Kaoru's first coherent action was to check for the presence of her companion, blue gaze darting frantically to the wall where he usually rested. Nothing but bare boards. Not surprising really, she thought with relief, the man rarely slept past dawn.

Cooking fish and spices invaded the air, assaulting her nostrils with their pleasant aroma. She smiled.

It had been an unspoken agreement between them from the start. Kenshin (who turned out not to be a bad chef) began breakfast early, leaving easily prepared leftovers to pack for the noonday meal. When the couple returned from their excursions to town nearby, Kaoru took her place as dutiful wife. The man had a cast iron stomach (an admirable quality in the young woman's eyes) gulping down her mediocre food without complaint. Then again, she thought cynically, he only had to suffer one meal a day.

Bare feet padded softly as Kaoru walked across the room and stepped behind the changing screen. A summer print yukata, the very same she set out the night before, hung ready for her. The whole set-up practically screamed domestic.

Kaoru sighed wistfully. She couldn't t remember ever being more at peace in her life. The arrangement they had was nice, if a bit unexpected. She had always imagined herself beside Keisuke in the dojo; doing katas, teaching classes, and every evening waiting for the illusion to shatter as she fulfilled the role expected of every woman. Her childhood sweetheart had been no different than any other man in this regard. She poignantly recalled many times last year when Keisuke half-playfully insisted she skip practice for a set of cooking lessons. Oh, how she had made him pay dearly those days during lessons!

Yet, she continued her former line of thought, slipping petite arms through buttercup sleeves, life with Kenshin was much different. He was unafraid to kneel on knees beside her, doing his fair share of chores (particularly laundry,) perfectly willing to make up for her own shortcomings, and they always "worked" in town together. The two were hardly ever apart. Kaoru didn't have a typical marriage with Kenshin: they had a partnership.

But, and she had to remind herself that this was a big 'but,' their wedding was a sham. Kenshin was an assassin in hiding with a price on his head. She was there to lessen suspicion. Nothing more. Once the threat was over and his skills were needed again, they would go their separate ways; probably never see each other again.

Kaoru slid the rose colored obi in place. For some reason, the reality of eventually parting with Kenshin filled her with an inexplicable sadness. Still, as she told him in the bar what seemed so long ago, she refused to dwell on past regrets. When the inevitable came, the young woman would walk away with a smile: cherishing all the precious memories gained. Oh, she knew her path from then on would be hard. She had been off to war, doing God knows what and quite possibly (as local gossipers would excitedly presume) sharing a bed with God knows what. That alone was enough to ruin her reputation beyond repair. And there was no guarantee her father would forgive her rash actions so quickly. Kaoru finished off the butterfly knot with a swift tug. Any consequences resulting from her decisions would dealt with in due time. Push come to shove, she would prove it was possible for a woman to survive on her own without falling back on the whorehouses as was too often the case.

Resolve firmly in place, Kaoru slid aside the shoji and stepped outside. The house they shared was small: consisting mainly of three rooms connected by a covered, wrap-around porch. She immediately turned left, heading a short distance around the corner to the kitchen.

The smell of simmering miso and steady clunk-clunk from chopping vegetables reached her senses long before the doorway came into view. The shoji was wide open to let kitchen heat escape, offering Kaoru an unabashed view of Kenshin's back as she paused silently at the entrance.

He seemed so at ease, humming softly, red ponytail swaying gently as he moved to fill a tray of pickles. One would be hard-pressed to imagine this man as a killer. That is, until a closer look revealed the almost unnatural fluidness of his motions. Or the straight, vigilant poise of his shoulders. She noted how smoothly he handled the knife, with an incredible grace underlying his deadly abilities.

"Good morning, Kaoru," Kenshin greeted, breaking her reverie. Not once did his violet eyes stray from the cutting board.

"Morning," she answered automatically, inwardly kicking herself for obviously ogling. Kaoru knew, despite her desperate wishing, that he had noticed. His constant awareness used to unnerve her slightly, but she had long since grown accustom to it.

"Would you like to eat inside or outside today? It's quite warm already."

"Outside sounds nice," Kaoru responded absently, moving quickly to set a place for them on the porch. His formality irked her somewhat, though he had long since dropped the honorific from her name. Still, she tried not to begrudge him. Her father's household had been one in which manners were hardly emphasized (though that might not have been the case had her mother lived) and she was well aware that she was the one acting outside the norm in this case.

Focus fixed on her task, it was the raven haired beauty's turn to be the subject of observation; though her watcher did so with much more subtlety. Kenshin angled his head downward, peering sideways through the curtain of his fiery bangs. Rays of morning light danced across the black sheet of her hair, reflecting a bluish tint that matched her wide, azure orbs. He had to admit, in that moment, that Kaoru was indeed a very attractive woman. Her cheerful expression, her carefree air; everything about her radiated with a purity and brightness he found remarkably soothing. Bold and compassionate, simple yet mysterious--- to him she was the epitome of innocence. The innocence he lost when he came to Kyoto, the innocence that drove him to kill, to the insanity his life had become. And deep down, in a twisted way, he envied her because he wanted to be her. Should be her.

She rose in a fluid motion, chore complete, and smiled down on her work. The way her mouth quirked, the dimples that crinkled under her eyes, everything seemed so genuine. Kenshin slowly felt the envy in his heart melt into something akin to admiration. Kaoru was the strongest woman he had ever met; that inner strength was what kept her innocent. And, when he glimpsed the sparkle in her eyes as she turned to announce her triumph, he couldn't bring himself to hold her in contempt. Not anymore.

---------

Kenshin didn't have to sense him to know he was coming. Glaring expectedly over lacquered rice bowl, he saw Iizuka crest the hill, new pack of supplies slung casually across his back. Today was delivery day and the distributor had finally arrived; late, as usual.

Kaoru's brow creased in distaste as she noticed his intense stare and turned around for herself. Kenshin forced himself to suppress a small chuckle. For some reason, he found himself enjoying little moments like these more often.

"Sorry to interrupt you meal, Himura," Iizuka apologized in an unconvincing tone. He removed the crate from his back. "Here's the delivery, as promised."

"Weren't you supposed to be here at dawn? Why, it's almost midmorning," Kaoru commented casually, as she did almost every week.

"Bold words from a woman who didn't have to climb up that damn mountain with a barrel on her back," Iizuka mumbled on cue, rubbing his lower back for emphasis. Blue eyes merely rolled in response.

"What news?" Kenshin asked once the ritual was over.

"Not much," Iizuka sighed. "Takasugi finally died in that rotten jail cell they threw him in. More of a relief than anything if you ask me. Disease was killing the poor guy before they caught him anyway. Katsura is grieving naturally, but he hasn't taken a break. Claims it would be a disservice to Takasugi if he did. Just lay low a little longer."

"Takasugi was the one who recruited me. I am sorry to hear of his passing," the redhead bowed respectfully before returning to his food. Iizuka blanched, a reaction that did not go unnoticed by Kaoru.

"Why don't you join us Iizuka-san?" the raven-haired girl offered with a sickeningly sweet smile. She raised her bowl, "I made extra."

"W--- well, I've done my job already. I really must be going---"

"Oh, but I insist!"

Iizuka took a tentative step back while Kenshin hid twitching lips behind his chopsticks. Not many women could force a man like Iizuka into a stalemate so easily. Then again, she did score a hit in the balls a little over a year ago; that probably had something to do with it.

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline your request!" Iizuka let out in a rush. "I really must be going, see you next week!" he was scurrying down the hill in an instant.

"Coward!" Kaoru muttered after his retreating figure. Kenshin laughed quietly, face still covered, but such a limited gesture couldn't hide the nearly invisible crinkles along the corners of his eyes. She noticed and smiled brightly at the reaction she received.

"You don't mind that I took credit for the meal, do you?"

Kenshin lowered his hand, having finally schooled his expression.

"No, not at all," he shrugged.

"It was worth it to see him squirm," she grinned.

"Yes, it certainly was," he smiled, this time openly.

Kaoru beamed and they shared the rest of their meal in companionable silence.

----------

Otsu was a quaint town, surrounded by mountainous forest and quite isolated. A single passageway to and from Kyoto provided the only escape. Roads were narrow, lined by small homes, each bearing witness to many generations within their respective families. One could almost call the whole arrangement picturesque. Husbands and wives knew each other from childhood, sons followed in their father's footsteps indiscriminately, daughters weeded the same gardens their grandmother's nourished years ago, and life had pretty much settled into an unspoken harmony between individuals.

So, as one could very well imagine, an outsider to this quiet sanctuary was as rare as a summer snow, and just as much a spectacle. Kenshin and Kaoru were no exception.

"Himura-san!" a girl-child squealed as they entered town.

The exuberant youth dropped her rag doll and rushed to intercept them, pale blue yukata grass stained at the knees. She was soon accompanied by a throng three and a half feet high, jumping up and down, each trilling their own version of, "Himura-san is here! Himura-san is here!" repeatedly. The much anticipated Himuras smiled back at their admirers, greeting them just as warmly (though with a bit more restraint.) Soon, adults joined the tiny fray, women pulling overly excited children away while others proceeded to start a line-up for their wares. Kenshin dropped the heavy wooden chest with a sigh and flipped the lid; business was officially open.

The day fast set into its usual routine for the incognito couple. Men and women alike came to them with their pleas, trading goods (or in the rare case, money) for the cures they offered. Kenshin gave short, polite responses to inquiries about his health or comments about the weather before moving on to the next buyer. Barely an arms length away, Kaoru engaged in idle conversation with several customers, hands flailing expressively as she spoke. The redhead couldn't help but smile as he prepared the next order; Kaoru had a way with people he simply couldn't match and for that he was grateful.

Time flew by. Around mid-day, the early morning rush thinned out, leaving the pair a few moments of respite before the next batch came along with their demands. Kaoru unwrapped their meal, served her husband his share, and proceeded to make short work of her lunch. Occasionally she would fill the void with mindless chatter; but for the most part, the two sat in peaceful quiet under the noon sun.

"Finished eatin' already, busu? Pretty soon you wouldn't be able to fit in that kimono anymore."

"Why good day to you too, Yahiko-CHAN," Kaoru snipped at their six-year-old interruption. The boy stood to just below the woman's waist, tan face flushed with fury.

"How many times I gotta tell you, busu?! Don't call me 'chan!'"

"And don't call me 'busu!' Children should respect their elders."

"I don't see an elder," the boy pulled a child-sized shinai from the belt of his green hakama as if in challenge. "Just an old hag."

"Oh, Yahiko, is that new?" Kaoru asked, ignoring the insult in favor of examining the bamboo sword. A sort of longing seemed to shine in her deep sapphire eyes.

"Yeah, my uncle gave it to me," he brandished the mock weapon awkwardly, almost losing his grip in the process. "I am Myoujin Yahiko, Edo samurai! Take me on if you dare!"

"Not with your grip like that! You'd barely last a minute against someone with even the most basic of training. Here," the woman rose, voice oozing eagerness. "Let me show you."

"Nuh unh! What does a girl like you know? My father's a samurai in the Shogitai," his chest swelled with pride at the words.

"And my father is the master of a dojo. I may not look it now, but I use to be pretty decent back in the day. Father even let me help teach a few beginner classes before I left," Kaoru smiled at the memory, a misty, almost nostalgic expression on her face.

"Really?" Yahiko questioned with a skeptical look, completely belittled by the awe in his voice.

"What do you mean 'really?' Here, I'll prove it to you."

Kenshin merely smiled as Kaoru approached the young boy and, with professional ease, proceeded to correct his form. Neither eyes nor mouth betrayed his surprise.

The hitokiri had known his pseudo-wife belonged to a samurai family; that she had been raised in a dojo and taught to respect its ideals. And the few martial conversations they had proved without a doubt she fully understood the mechanics of combat. Still, he never imagined that she might actually have been trained in the art. That she could possibly have found joy in it.

"Here--- relax your grip a bit. No, not that much--- you'll lose your shinai that way. Just loosen up your wrists--- you'd hurt yourself if you fought with them that stiff."

Watching her stride around Yahiko, adjusting arms, legs, back and anything else she saw fit, Kenshin realized the foolishness of his error. Kaoru had never moved with the delicacy most women did. Of course, that could easily be attributed to her motherless upbringing, but there was a strength and grace in her step all too familiar. A quality he almost instinctually searched for in street crowds. And then there were the mysterious calluses on her hands he'd felt but never questioned. To not notice these signs in someone he'd seen practically everyday for the past year, as a practitioner of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, was a disgrace.

"There! Now swing!"

"Hya!" Yahiko cried out, bringing the shinai down with him in a smooth arc. The boy stared at his hands for a moment, as if surprised the movement had come from them, before turning to Kaoru and breaking out in a toothy grin.

"I--- I did it. That was awesome!" he punched his fist in the air, whooping excitement.

"Well done! You just might make a decent swordsman after all!" Kaoru beamed at her makeshift student. Sapphire orbs sparkled with a contentment Kenshin had never seen before. A badly suppressed whisper sounded to their right and old habits immediately kicked in. Violet eyes bordering on steel blue scanned the small scattered crowd; staring unabashed at the foreign boy and strangely knowledgeable woman as they celebrated. Even after the two calmed, gossipers persisted. Assassin lids narrowed dangerously on the cursed individuals.

"Kenshin? Yahiko needs his order now."

"Of course," Kenshin dug into his crate promptly to hide the start. Kaoru furrowed her brow knowingly but otherwise remained silent. They were both perfectly aware exactly how close a call that had been; never since their arrival had either come so near to giving themselves away.

"How is your mother, Yahiko-kun? Has her condition improved any?" the sham medicine man inquired politely to cover his slip.

"Not really," messy black bangs hid sepia eyes as the youngster bowed his head. "She has good days--- but then she just gets worse all over again. Grandfather and uncle both say its Dad's fault for going to war and leaving us here. That they shouldn't have let her go off and marry an outsider in the first place. Sometimes," he lowered his voice barely above a whisper, as if the volume caused him physical pain. "Sometimes they say--- very bad things."

Neither had anything to say to those words. Kaoru bit her lower lip anxiously before reaching out and placing a reassuring hand on the troubled boy's shoulder. Kenshin grabbed the parcel he'd just prepared, held it out to Yahiko, and displayed a rare, true smile.

"Here, this should help your mother feel better."

"Yeah, thanks," small hands reached out to the offered pack. A moment of comforting silence passed as the three of them stood there; holding on to a feeling far too fragile to shatter with mere words.

"I--- I guess I better get home with this," Yahiko lifted his head, sporting a telling grin. "See ya for tomorrow's pick-up!"

The couple watched cheerlessly as the child ran off, waving frantically behind. He faded from sight and the hitokiri allowed himself a brief flash of anger. Otsu might have possessed peaceful, small town charm; but today had been a grim reminder that such calm was like innocence. Not easily maintained, and once lost, never returned.

"Ne, Kenshin?"

He perked at the sound of Kaoru's hesitant voice. Cautiously, the redhead turned to acknowledge her; eyes once again a warm amethyst color. She leaned almost uncomfortably close. Her tone lowered to a barely audible whisper.

"I--- I'm sorry--- about earlier. I didn't realize we were attracting so much attention."

Kenshin stared blankly for a moment, unsure how to respond to her honest apology. Not when he himself felt even more responsible for his lack of control. She stared expectantly, traces of dread lacing the atmosphere around her, and he realized with a start that she was waiting for his response. Finally, after an awkward silence, he settled for shrugging nonchalantly and brushing the matter aside.

"These things happen sometimes."

"Maybe," Kaoru shuffled back uncertainly, gentle breeze teasing raven forelocks. The man beside her felt she hadn't really been consoled but, glancing back at the young woman's profile, he was at a loss for anything else to say.

"Himura-san?"

A plain woman, long dark hair swept up in a dramatic style, stood nervously in front of him. Kenshin faced her, merchant's mask in place, realizing somewhat forlorn that the conversation with his wife would have to wait until they were both alone and away from prying eyes.

"How may I help you today, Toki-san?"

----------

Dinner proved a sorry affair.

Kaoru sat stiff as a statue, head bowed, blue gaze riveted to the safety of her lap. She held her bowl at chin height (obscuring any other features that might give her expression away) and picked tiny bites at a slow, calculated pace. Ebony strands hung loose over her shoulders from a work-mussed ponytail. She made no move to push them back.

Across the table, Kenshin behaved no better. He shoved food almost mechanically into his mouth while giving furtive glances over at his companion. Occasionally, he set the rice bowl down, lips twitching as if steeling himself for a long-due outburst; only to pick the meal back up and resume his previous behavior soon afterward. He wanted to sigh, exasperated. The words echoed clear in his mind, yet somehow, when he resolved to say them they never seemed quite right.

His teacher may have taught him to be a master swordsman, but a little lesson on how to deal with women would have been much more appreciated right now!

Lost amid his own rumination, Kenshin stretched wooden chopsticks blindly toward the pickle dish. His fingers collided with smooth knuckles smaller than his own. A soft gasp echoed through the thick air.

Every muscle in the young man's body seized up, teeth involuntarily clenching as he slowly lifted reluctant lids. Two heads rose in time and the world stopped. Kaoru's face went slack, pale hand retreating from the pickle dish though she hardly seemed aware of the gesture. Kenshin sat just as hopelessly mesmerized, engulfed in her watery depths as she was submerged in his violet haze; twin pupils mirroring each other's anxiety.

In that moment, all thought left the hitokiri. The blood, the violence, the killing: everything that torented his soul vanished. Cleansed by her ocean blue. Lips parted of their own accord, and from them escaped the most unlikely sound. Faint as the softest breath, it may very well have gone unnoticed, if not for the unnatural silence shrouding them.

Oro.

Kenshin blanched and immediately slapped a hand over his mouth. Chopsticks clattered, forgotten on the smooth polished table. Where had that come from? Not even the all-knowing Hiko knew that particular sound. It was from a life long past; a life innocent of swords and slave traders. A strange crept up the back of his neck and Kenshin realized with astonishment that he was blushing for the first time since leaving his master over a year ago.

A suppressed snort reached blood pounding ears and shock transformed into pure, utter horror. His face flushed a shade past scarlet, petrified gaze fixated on the girl trembling before him. Her hand mimicked his, clamped tightly over her mouth, with cheeks the same brilliant red. But while the man sat stone still, mortified; her shoulders shook gleefully, tears of mirth pooling generously in the corners of her eyes. Kenshin wanted to sink into the floor on the spot.

Kaoru was laughing at him.

The young woman suddenly doubled over, free arm hugging her stomach for support. Kenshin, amazingly, felt his face grow hotter. Her giggles were audible through white fingers now: muffled guffaws bounced off the walls, each peal louder than the last. The flustered young man was too embarrassed to think, to realize the hand over his mouth had balled into a fist. That it was swinging down fast.

Bang!

The raven-haired girl fell silent, staring flabbergast at the fumed redhead. He was shaking, violet-blue eyes wide and unseeing. Kaoru didn't have to be able to sense ki to feel the waves of distress pouring out of him.

"Stop that," he rasped. "Just stop."

He was completely dumbfounded. Emotions the hitokiri couldn't comprehend flooded in and out, leaving the boy completely helpless in their wake. He was ashamed of his outburst; the current situation unlike anything he'd ever faced in his entire life. Lids closed on embattled amethyst as a frustrated sigh escaped the youth. Fighting a death-duel seemed less stressful at the moment.

"Kenshin?" Kaoru inquired meekly when he rose suddenly. Fiery bangs shielded troubled eyes in shadow as he turned, walking in a daze toward the porch. Desperate to flee the stifling room, the man neither looked at nor acknowledged her as the shoji slammed shut resolutely between them.

----------

The chill night breeze pierced skin as it hit his cheeks, pausing only a moment to play with red silk threads atop his head before moving on. In the distance, a few stubborn cicadas still chirped, though their song was a dying one. Kenshin lifted his chin to the sky and folded ice-numb hands into billowing, navy-blue sleeves. Autumn was definitely on the way.

The young man sighed loudly, stars reflecting off of darkened violet irises. Nearly an hour had pasted since he walked out on Kaoru and already he was starting to regret the action.

Another loud breath released as he lowered a forlorn gaze to unsandaled feet, hanging listlessly over the porch edge. How could he lose it like that? True his emotions had been a bit erratic lately, but the former assassin attributed this to suddenly being thrown into a peaceful atmosphere in contrast to a Hellish one. Such empty excuses couldn't explain today. Or the growing confusion in his heart.

Confusion. That was the best word to describe how she made him feel. In Kyoto, inner turmoil took a large back step to the chaos outside; here in the country, there were no violent missions to distract him. To chase away the thoughts deep down he'd rather ignore.

Or the nightmares.

Thin lips pressed white as last night's gore-coated image flickered through his mind. At least the dreams were something familiar in a strange new life, horrifying as they were. Those he could deal with.

But lately, ideas bordering on treason kept popping in and out of his head. Why did he kill? He told himself long ago that he wielded the katana in service to the people. But who did he really serve? Katsura led the movement and Iizuka gave him the black envelopes, but in the end he was just following orders. Hoping vainly that his efforts would pave the way to a better world.

Hiko denounced him because of that hope. Kaoru's words of a sword that protects rather than kill echoed across his memory with fatal timing. But could he really accomplish that? Protect without killing? He had to admit, the ideal presented a very nice dream.

Kenshin sensed her before he heard shoji slide open quietly. Bare feet pattered lightly against sanded planks, coming to an abrupt stop behind him. She sucked in air through flared nostrils and he waited, alert, for her to speak. Instead, he felt the weight of a heavy blanket settle over his shoulders.

"I--- I thought you might be cold out here."

He turned to face the nervous woman with round purple orbs, taking in the sight of her trembling form. She had changed into a pastel colored sleeping yukata since he saw her last, dark haori wrapped tightly around her torso to block the chill. Her long hair had also been braided and slung casually over the right shoulder. Lithe fingers twiddled impatiently. Kenshin realized yet again that she was waiting for him but, like last time, words failed him. Her demeanor wilted as minutes passed in silence and (eager not to screw-up a third time) the boy blurt out the only appropriate phrase he could think of.

"I'm sorry."

Kaoru nearly jumped at his admission, sapphire blue widening as the bigger picture finally dawned on her. Kenshin found himself looking away from her penetrating stare; for once, the weaker of the two as unwanted emotions piled one on top of the other and swirled together into a single congealed mess inside his skull. He couldn't even muster the willpower to give her an obligatory nod as she lowered herself onto the floorboards beside him. The torn boy opened his mouth to apologize again when Kaoru cut him off.

"You don't have to do that, Kenshin. You're not psychic and," her voice dropped an octave. "Neither am I."

"I suppose not," he answered, the only one he could provide in all honesty. She 'hmm'ed an affirmative and raised her face to the sky. The couple sat there for a while, stargazing, the soothing sounds of nightlife encasing them in a blanket of solitude.

"You know, I was thinking," Kaoru began, shattering the peace. "We really don't know that much about each other do we?"

"I know you're from a samurai family," Kenshin shrugged, unsure if he was ready to head in the direction her innocuous question promised to take him. "That your father owns a dojo where he teaches an unusual philosophy, he passed down his kenjiitsu to you and--- a childhood friend, when that same friend disobeyed those teachings to join the war--- you ran after him and ended up--- here."

"Well, that's all true," she hesitated a bit. "But those are pretty basic facts. There's more to everything than what you just said. I'm sure you've been wondering why my father taught his daughter how to fight when I should have been learning how to cook and care for a household. Haven't you?"

"Your past is your own. It's not my place to demand that which is at your discretion to give," Kenshin stated with an indifferent gesture. "I'm sure you have questions about mine as well but you never intruded on it. So, what reason do I have not to respect yours?"

"That's very considerate of you," Kaoru smiled at his endearing words. "But my life is no secret. I don't mind telling you---"

The redhead inclined his chin, waiting patiently. She may have told him otherwise, but the woman was fighting fear to reveal herself. He couldn't help but wonder, what was she afraid of?

"My mother died when I was very young," she opened the narrative. "I don't have many memories of her. Mostly, I remember watching my father in the practice hall as a child--- he swung the bouken with such strength and speed, and his steps were so graceful, filled with precision--- like a dance. My earliest memories are of standing at the dojo door, peeking at him as he taught lessons, naïve enough to believe he wasn't aware of my presence.

"When I was eight, he caught me sneaking into the dojo--- trying to emulate his moves with one of the student's shinai. I was so scared that he would be mad. After all, girls didn't do things like that. But instead he laughed and corrected my grip," she chuckled a bit, nostalgia ringing through her voice. "Our relationship before was distant at best, but afterward, he began teaching me the sword and took me almost everywhere he went. Neighbors whispered things about us, of course, but father never seemed bothered by it. Looking back, I don't think he really knew how to raise a daughter--- that's why he didn't mind their taunts. He had finally found a way to relate to me and didn't want to give that up. I guess I sort of became the son he never had. Back then, I was content with that---"

She drew her knees up, hugging them fiercely. The young man merely held his tongue, unsure what encouragement he could possibly offer, and waited for the meek girl to continue on her own.

"Not long after I began attending classes, Keisuke turned up on our doorstep. He was just a scrawny little runaway and everyone ridiculed my father for taking him in. 'Kamiya was too kindhearted for his own good,' they said. But Keisuke soon proved them wrong--- he was a natural at kenjiitsu, fast becoming a star pupil and city champion. I remember--- my father was so proud of him."

Here she paused, as if deliberating how to break the next half to him. Kenshin had a foreboding feeling he wouldn't like what she had to say next.

"I--- I adored Keisuke like a brother--- he was always kind and didn't mind sparring with me or just simply sitting in the yard to talk. The other boys usually shunned me because I was sweaty, unrefined, and beat most of them in lessons at some point. Not Keisuke. He treated me like an equal--- perhaps--- that's why--- I didn't mind when father arranged our engagement."

Kenshin felt himself go rigid. He wasn't surprised (far from it,) he sensed the sentiment each time Kaoru talked about Keisuke. Still, the impact of hearing those words from her mouth left him frozen.

"I was twelve at the time and believed, because of the way everyone else acted, that no one else would be willing to marry me. So, I was happy to have found Keisuke. I--- I did love him--- but not romantically," she flicked a pointed side glance toward Kenshin. "I realize that now."

"So you followed him here," her audience whispered hoarsely, head bowed. "He left to join the war and you ran after him."

"Yes, I was so mad at him!" Kaoru fumed. "I couldn't just sit there and do nothing as my father grieved. But I didn't know which side he joined, so, when I arrived in Kyoto I decided to get a job before starting my detective work. As fate would have it, the inn that accepted me happened to be tied to the Ishin Shishi. Later, I found out Keisuke joined the Shinsengumi," she cocked her head with a playful grimace. "I've gotten myself into quite a predicament, haven't I?"

"So it seems," Kenshin responded dully.

"Actually, I hate to admit, I feel my biggest loss since then was throwing away the bouken my father gave me. I carried it to defend myself during travel but people would have found me too suspicious if I had one in Kyoto. I haven't practiced at all in the past year either. I may have put on airs for Yahiko--- but I'm probably completely out of shape now," she sighed wistfully. "I kind of miss it."

"I could tell," she blinked at his sudden interjection. "When you were teaching Yahiko today--- you seemed--- happier."

"I guess so," Kaoru smiled. "So--- you don't mind?"

"I don't see why I should," he spoke matter-of-factly. "The past is exactly that, the past. What you do in the present says more about you than what is already said and done."

The words surprised even himself (especially considering his violent internal reaction) but on second thought, Kenshin realized he truly meant it, down to the last syllable. He didn't begrudge Kaoru at all.

"I'm glad," she breathed, petite hand snaking up to clutch the fabric over her heart. "Very glad."

"Mine's not quite as long as yours," he captured her attention with the unexpected phrase. Immediately, she assumed the worst.

"I didn't tell you my past just so you'd tell me yours," she blurt out in a rush. "It's alright, if you don't want to---"

"No, its fine," scarlet bangs swayed in rhythm. He told her briefly of his childhood. Of the small village--- he couldn't remember exactly where--- that he grew up in. How his parents were farmers and about his two older brothers. The man kept his explanations cut and dry. When he reached the cholera epidemic that killed his family, his sentences became even more clipped. He lived alone as a homeless orphan a short while before a slavers' caravan swept him up. For several months he traveled with them; too skinny and frail looking for desirable labor. Eventually the slavers spilt up. He was herded with a smaller group headed to the city. The bandit's attack was properly glossed over though Kaoru still gasped in horror. From there, he recapped the time with his teacher, their disagreement, his subsequent running away and recruitment by Katsura.

"How sad," she whispered after he completed the tale.

Kenshin spun around to meet her tear laced lids, deep sapphire brimming over with empathy. They grew larger and larger, until his vision was consumed by unfathomable blue. Jasmine filled his nose as warm breath flowed across his skin, all senses blocked from everything but her. He couldn't budge, like a fly caught in a web, and still she leaned closer. Soft lips brushed his rough cheek over the skin of his vertical scar. Fire seemed to devour him, racing through the blood in his veins even as her touch cooled the burn. Eternity passed as she pulled away and beamed up at him.

"Thank you for sharing with me, Kenshin."

He watched in a trance state as she walked back to the bedroom, rice paper screen sliding softly shut behind her. And he swore in that moment he could do it. If anything, he swore his sword could at least protect her.


End file.
